


Beyone The Sea

by 30xf



Series: 201 Days Of X Files [13]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 20:17:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4759595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30xf/pseuds/30xf





	Beyone The Sea

It's hard to ignore the big, dying tree that stands, still decorated for Christmas, in my living room. But Mulder and I are doing a pretty good job of it. He's set up on the couch, his injured leg stretched out and propped up on a couple of throw pillows, while I'm at the dining room table. Both of us are sifting through stacks of files and trying to stay awake. As a result of Mulder being shot, we're on desk duty for a while, and on this afternoon, we had decided to skip out of the office and work from my apartment. The basement office is cold and damp, and I could tell by Mulder's constant shifting in his chair that his leg could stand to be elevated. We stopped for tea and bagels on the way, and while I have made a start on my drink, I'm not particularly interested in the bagel. Mulder insisted on me getting one, noting that he hadn't seen me eat much lately. He's right, but that still doesn't mean I'm going to eat it. 

It has been just over two weeks since my father died. And as it has always been, my emotions manifest themselves most noticeably through my appetite. I've eaten enough to keep me from passing out at any given moment, but the churning in my stomach doesn't let me go much beyond that.

"How's your bagel?" Mulder asks from the couch, not looking up from his file.

I sigh, "I don't know...I haven't eaten it yet."

"I asked for it toasted, with cream cheese--just the way you like it," he tells me, even though I was standing beside him when he ordered it.

He crumples up the paper his bagel had been wrapped in and tosses it on the coffee table, a clear sign he's finished his. "I'm not that hungry," I tell him. "I'll eat it later."

I can tell he's looking at me, but I do my best to ignore him. While straightening up the living room this morning, I had come across the Christmas card my parents had given me. Since reading the hand written message from my father contained in it, I am far too emotional to have the conversation Mulder wants today. With some effort, he gets up from the couch, grabs his crutches and heads towards me. I tense up until I realize he's stopped at the tree. "So...are you gonna leave this up all year?" he asks, gently rotating one of the delicate ornaments to get a better look at it.

The words echo in my brain, but in my father's voice instead of Mulder's. There's no way he could have known my father asked me the exact same question on the night he died, but that doesn't make it any less painful. I set the file in my hands down and let my eyes fall to my lap, willing tears away. I am silent for so long that Mulder finally looks over at me, wondering why I haven't answered. I can feel his gaze on me, and I clear my throat, doing my best to swallow a sizable lump. "I uh...I've been meaning to take it down. Just haven't had time."

I force myself to take a sip of tea, and then unwrap my bagel, aware Mulder is still watching me. I can't quite manage to take a bite though, and so I just swipe a glob of cream cheese with my finger and lick it off. It's so rich to my palate--having subsisted mostly on tea and dry toast for two weeks--that it turns my stomach. I push it aside and finally look up at Mulder. "I could, uh...I could help you...if you want," he offers. For a moment, I feel like he can read every thought that's in my brain. His eyes are a mix of sympathy and compassion that tells me he may know exactly why I haven't taken the tree down yet.

Tears well in my eyes again, but I sigh and blink them away. "There's pine needles everywhere," I inform him, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of my mouth as I remember my father's joke about cleaning them up.

Mulder chuckles a little, "That's okay. I think we can handle it."

I look at him and smile, "Thank you."

"I haven't done anything yet," he reminds me

I give a short but genuine laugh, hoping he knows he's already done more than enough for me. "I'll get the boxes for the ornaments," I tell him, already starting to crave that bagel as I head out of the room.


End file.
